


There's a World

by oulamort



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Grantaire Survives, Angst, M/M, Suicide, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-18
Updated: 2014-03-18
Packaged: 2018-01-16 04:18:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1331626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oulamort/pseuds/oulamort
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reposting after editing. Grantaire survives the barricade, only to be plagued with a vision of Enjolras. Title from Next to Normal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There's a World

He supposed he should call himself lucky. He had, after all, survived an utter bloodbath that had taken the lives of every one of his friends. Of course, the fact that he had survived was the very reason Grantaire did not call himself lucky. 

In the days following the fall of the barricade, Grantaire had crawled so deeply into the bottle he didn’t think he would ever resurface, nor did he have any desire to. The one thing he believed in had been ripped away from him. 

He had spent almost every waking moment thinking about Enjolras, the barricade, berating himself for not waking up sooner. He had slept while his friends had died. No matter how much he drank, nothing could ease that ache in his chest, that feeling that some terrible, vengeful god had taken hold of his heart and lungs and was trying to squeeze the life out of him. What that vengeful god didn’t know was that Grantaire’s life was already gone. Nothing could erase the visions of his friend’s corpses strewn over the remains of their barricade. 

This particular night, one week after the fall of the barricade, Grantaire was sitting in the corner of some bar he had stumbled into, nursing his third bottle of the evening. He had been minding his own business, he truly had, when he overheard part of a conversation three men were having a couple tables over. 

“They got what was coming for them, if you ask me. Idiotic fools, to think that Paris would support their little game at war,” the first man, a husky blond said. 

“Did they actually believe they could make a change?” asked the second man. 

“Oh, yes. Minds surely addled by drink or cholera, one of the two.” The men all laughed raucously. 

Without realizing it, Grantaire had stood up. “They did what they thought was right.”

The men turned and looked at him, condescension dripping from their expressions.  
“And what would you know about it, drunkard?” The blond man asked scathingly. 

“I was there. They died believing in something that meant the world to them. They died good men, which is more than you could ever hope to be.” Grantaire’s hands had curled into fists. He could feel himself shaking with rage. 

The blond smirked and smiled at his companions. “Do you know what I believe, gentlemen? That this arrogant, drunken Republican needs to be put back in his place.”

Before Grantaire could so much as throw a punch, the three men were dragging him into the alley behind the bar and raining down blows on him. 

He wasn’t sure how long the assault lasted. Time no longer meant anything to him. Finally, they stopped beating him, and turned to re-enter the bar. Before they left, the blond, the one who had instigated the attack turned and said, “If you believed in the cause so much, you should have died on those barricades yourself. The world could do with one less pathetic student.”

It was quite some time before Grantaire was able to stand again. He finally staggered around to the front of the building, trying to staunch the flow of blood coming from his forehead to prevent it from dripping into his eyes. 

As he turned the corner to the front of the building, he heard a sigh. “Grantaire, what have you gotten yourself into this time?”

Grantaire looked up into the beautiful, crystal blue eyes of Enjolras. It was several seconds before he could even find words. “Enjolras…you…but…what are you doing here?”

Enjolras smiled at him. “I came for you, mon ami. I came to tell you something.”

“Me?” Grantaire asked. “What on earth could you possibly have to tell me?”

Enjolras continued to smile beatifically at him. “I wanted to tell you about the most wonderful place.”

“What?” Grantaire sank slowly down, until he was sitting on the ground. Enjolras knelt down in front of him. 

“The most magnificent place, Grantaire. It is beautiful. There is no poverty, no death, no pain. Everyone is treated as equals. The world is free, and the people are happy.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because, Grantaire. You can come to this place. You can come and be with me again. Be with all of us. We miss you, Grantaire. We want you by our side again.”

Grantaire shakily stood. “You died, Enjolras. You died a week ago, on the barricade. You died fighting for that ideal world you speak of.”

“And I have found it, Grantaire. The only thing that world is missing is you.”

“You cannot mean that.” Grantaire turned and began stumbling down the street. 

Enjolras suddenly appeared quickly at his side. “I do. This world will be good for you, Grantaire. It can take away your pain.”

Grantaire turned quickly to face Enjolras and nearly lost his balance. “Nothing can take away my pain.” He said fiercely. “Nothing but you.”

“That is what I am offering you, Grantaire. Myself. And to have me, you only need follow me to this world.”

Grantaire felt he could not breathe. “I can be with again? If I follow you to this world?”

Enjolras smiled. “Yes. It’s what I have been trying to tell you. All you have to do is follow me.” With that, he grabbed Grantaire’s hand and began walking down the street. 

Grantaire had no choice but to follow. This was the chance he had asked for, had even gone so far as to pray for one night in a drunken stupor. The chance to be with Enjolras again. He dared to let himself feel a small, infinitesimal spark of hope. 

“I would have done anything for you, you know,” Grantaire said, trailing behind Enjolras. “I would have even died for you on that barricade. I would do anything to be with you again.” He could not stop the tears from falling. “Please, Enjolras. Please, let me be with you again. 

Enjolras merely glanced back and faintly smiled. “You are almost there, mon ami. You are so close to being with us, with me again.” They continued walking, until Enjolras suddenly stopped and turned to face Grantaire. “This is it, mon cher. This is your chance. All you have to do is follow me.”

He slowly started walking backwards. “Follow me, Grantaire. Follow me to a world where you will hurt no more. A world where you will be reunited with your friends.” He stretched out his hand, beckoning for Grantaire to follow him. “A world where you may have me.” 

Grantaire began walking after Enjolras, reaching out for his hand. He walked until he felt his knees hit the side of the bridge, for that was where Enjolras had led him. Grantaire was standing flush against the edge of the bridge, overlooking the Seine below. “Enjolras?”

He looked up, only to see Enjolras standing in the middle of the river, still reaching a hand out to Grantaire. “Come, Grantaire. Come with me. All you have to do is jump. Jump, and we can be together. Jump, and all the pain will go away. Do it, Grantaire. Do it for me.”

“Enjolras…” Grantaire quickly clambered onto the side of the bridge. “I’m coming, Enjolras, I’m coming. Wait for me. Don’t leave me again, I’m coming. Please.”

Enjolras suddenly appeared directly in front of Grantaire. “Yes, Grantaire. Come to me.” He grabbed both of Grantaire’s hands. “Do it for me.”

“Yes,” Grantaire said, a look of fervent devotion on his face. “Yes, Enjolras. I’m coming for you.”

He stepped off the bridge, still holding tight to Enjolras’ hands, the beautiful clear, blue eyes bright in his vision, until everything faded to darkness, black and cold.

**Author's Note:**

> Enjolras is out of character in this, but that's because he's literally a figment of R's imagination. Figment!Enjolras is saying everything R wants to hear. So, please forgive the ooc-ness.


End file.
